


F.M.K.

by c_r_roberts



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:33:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1984821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c_r_roberts/pseuds/c_r_roberts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>A modern AU one shot in which Peeta and Katniss are co-workers. Until an after-work happy hour and a silly little game changes that dynamic.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	F.M.K.

**Author's Note:**

> _So, I posted this on tumblr already, and it started out as just a prompt and a drabble, but it turned into more of a one shot, and I thought it perfectly acceptable to also post it here. In case you're interested, the (anonymous) prompt was: **I would love to read something with Katniss wearing Peeta's button up and him getting really excited about it.** And because of it, just like Peeta, I got really excited too. _

**_Peeta_**

When he swings by her office, she's still on her phone. She's deep enough in conversation that she doesn't notice him at first and he waits patiently in her open doorway, leaning against the frame of it and grinning at her when she finally looks up and sees him standing there.

She makes a face, then gestures with her hand in that motion people do when someone won't shut up—the one where you clamp your fingers and your thumb together, then waving him in to her office and holding up a finger to assure him it will only be a minute.

Which is good, because it's already 5:35 and they've been here exactly 35 minutes too long as it is. Especially for a Friday. And most especially for a Friday in which they're headed out to celebrate Finnick's birthday.

"Yes, Ms. Trinket, I can assure you all the beef we stock in our stores is 100% certified organic."

Katniss sounds annoyed, not hiding her irritation well with whoever Ms. Trinket is, and Peeta bites back a chuckle when he takes a seat in one of the chairs she has in front of her desk.

Katniss shakes her head at Peeta, a good indication that Ms. Trinket is not getting the message that Katniss doesn't feel like doing her job any more, and Katniss presses a button on her phone, putting her on speaker, just to give him a taste of what she's dealing with.

"Well Ms. Everdeen, are they strictly grass-fed cows? And how are the cattle herded? What about the way the beef is stored as it's transported? Because I just don't know if we can give our support to _Clean Foods_ if you can't answer those questions."

Katniss looks at Peeta pained and helplessly, like she's never getting out of here now.

_Just go_ , she mouths, waving him on.

And then she attempts to begin answering Ms. Trinket's string of benign and stupid questions.

But not 3 words in, Peeta interrupts her loudly.

"Excuse me, Ms. Everdeen," he says, leaning over her desk and into the speaker on the phone, enjoying the wide-eyed look Katniss gets as he does.

"But you're already 5 minutes late for a very important meeting. I hate to disturb what I'm sure is an equally important business call, but the _President_ is waiting."

Katniss rolls her eyes that.

The _President? Really?_

Peeta shrugs, leaning back into his seat with a smirk.

Because it does the job. And all of sudden, Ms. Trinket is apologizing profusely and telling Katniss _she'll call back Monday._

Katniss shakes her head at him, amused, but still sighing tiredly as she hangs up.

"I swear, if I have to answer one more question about fucking cows today, I'm going to-"

"—have one?" Peeta cuts her off, unable to resist the joke.

Katniss narrows her eyes at him for a beat in silence before giving in and laughing.

He grins.

"Come on. Let's get out of here," Katniss tells him, pushing herself up from her seat, still smiling as she shuts down her computer and grabs her blazer off the back of her chair. She drapes it over her arm, not bothering to put it back on over the hunter-green wrap dress she's wearing.

And Peeta tries not to stare at her, but it's almost impossible, because Katniss is pretty. Very pretty. Peeta's thought so since the first day he saw her, when they started orientation together two years ago. Their jobs at _Clean Foods_ were both of their firsts out of college, and even though there were ten other people who shared their start date, Peeta had sat next to _her_ , and he'd made her laugh, and she'd made his pulse race. And from there, they'd become fast friends. It's lucky he'd met her then—their paths might not have crossed much otherwise.

Clean Foods is an upscale, all-organic grocery store chain with stores all over the country. And their corporate headquarters employs over 500 employees; and since Katniss works in the food quality control division while Peeta makes his living as a buyer in the bakery department, their work never overlaps.

But they eat lunch together all the time. And go for coffee breaks. And sometimes on Friday mornings, they'll shut the door to one of their offices and just talk and laugh and gossip about whatever stupid office rumors are flying that week.

And of course, they attend happy hours together.

It's gotten to the point where coworkers will make jokes about them, telling them they should just date already, or good naturedly accusing them of dating in secret.

Which always makes Peeta smile uncomfortably, particularly when Katniss is around to scowl or say something snippy in response, because he's thought about asking her out many times. Too many times, honestly.

But Katniss isn't exactly someone who's easy to ask out on a date.

And she's constantly doing things to remind Peeta that they're just friends.

Including dissecting the guys she actually goes out on dates with with him, which is just as awkward as when she'll casually ask him about his sex life over turkey sandwiches in his office during lunch.

Peeta's a firm believer that friends or not, he'd prefer that some things were off limits between them. Particularly things involving random men taking Katniss out to dinner and whether or not they went home with her afterwards.

But most of the time, it's easy and comfortable with her, and it's just them talking and laughing about each other and work and silly things, without the idea of other love interests interrupting.

So when they reach their usual bar down the street from their office building, large enough to fit the crowd of people they usually draw, but not big or popular enough to be so crowded you can't get a seat or a drink, the routine is familiar. Peeta orders two beers, then Katniss tries to pay for hers, and Peeta doesn't let her, insisting she got the last one.

She scowls at first, but accepts the drink, gratefully tipping it back.

Peeta sips his too, handing the bartender his card and telling her to keep it open before turning to survey their company.

The younger employees they usually hang out with at these things are in the back at a table, and Peeta can see them laughing rowdily about something, but they're too far away to hear what's so funny.

And he's about to point them out to Katniss, to suggest that they head that way, when he's caught off guard and interrupted by Beetee, a coworker in the bakery department who starts talking to him about the brand of wheat bread they decided to contract for this week.

Beetee's nice enough, and Peeta likes working with him, but he's also usually awkward to talk to and everyone knows that it's no fun to talk bread during non-work hours.

Especially when you work in the food quality control division.

So as he begins what's sure to be at least a ten minute and two-beer conversation with Beetee, mostly because he's too polite to cut the man off, Peeta nods his head to Katniss, silently waving her on. _Go. Run. Be free._

She smiles a genuine, sweet smile, like it's the nicest thing he's ever done for her.

And as she escapes to their friends in the back, Peeta wonders if she has any idea just how much more he'd be willing to do for her.

***

**_Katniss_**

It takes the table all of five minutes to start playing after she sits down. She's still drinking the beer Peeta bought for her, still coming down from a long day of annoying phone calls, still feeling slightly guilty for leaving Peeta behind with Beetee, and still wondering how long he'll have him cornered, but saving the seat next to her for him anyway.

But damn if this game doesn't get her laughing every single time.

"Ok, I have one."

And the table turns to Finnick, the birthday boy, turning the youngest 32 Katniss has ever met, who's grinning.

It's their group's favorite game. Katniss isn't sure how or when it started exactly—probably at one of these happy hours a few months ago. Maybe because someone had brought up an office crush or something equally harmless. But now they infatuate themselves with playing this sick game.

Fuck. Marry. Kill. _FMK_ , for short. The premise is simple. Someone prompts the players with three names—and by happy hour rules, all Clean Foods co-workers—and you have to say who you'd fuck, who you'd marry, and who you'd kill out of your choices. Usually, the prompter is of the opposite sex of the players, but they've been known to bend the rules. And you never ever name anyone who's playing. Because no one should have to hear who wants to kill you. Or fuck you, if Katniss is being honest.

"Plutarch, Haymitch, and Cray."

Katniss makes a face and swigs her beer while Johanna and Madge, the other females at the table, groan. No one likes playing when unattractive old men are involved. The rest of the table—Thresh and Marvel—laughs.

"Fuck you, Finnick," Johanna grumbles.

Finnick laughs now too.

"That's not one of the options, Jo."

And the girls collectively agree to kill Cray, with a split between Johanna and Madge fucking Haymitch and marrying Plutarch, whereas Katniss would marry Haymitch over Plutarch any day of the week. Seeing as he's her boss, she figures she'd get some perks out of the whole marriage thing at least.

After some discussion of their reasoning, Johanna fires back at the boys with Wiress, Coin, and Mags, and absolutely no one thinks it's fair to include Mags, Plutarch's elderly secretary, but Johanna's unrelenting.

And after the boys answer, Thresh pipes up after having been the only one to kill Mags, and also the rest of his beer.

"Oooh, I have a good one."

And he's smiling, so it must be good. Because Thresh rarely smiles.

"Gale, Finnick, and Peeta."

"You can't do that, Finnick's here," Katniss replies immediately, shaking her head.

But Finnick grins, almost manically, shrugging. "It's my birthday. And I say it's fair game."

Fuck.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._ Everyone.

Because suddenly this game isn't all that fun anymore.

But Johanna jumps in quickly and definitively.

"Kill Peeta, fuck Gale, marry Finnick."

Madge gasps as Katniss watches Finnick gloat. "You can't kill Peeta!"

"What would you do then blondie?" she shrugs. And then gives a pointed look to Finnick. "That's solely so I don't have to fuck you. And because I can't kill you on your birthday."

The table laughs, Finnick included.

Madge answers, deciding she _can_ kill Finnick on his birthday, fucking Peeta, and marrying Gale. But at least she kills Finnick apologetically, and he takes it in stride.

And when Katniss tries to abstain, of course, no one lets her. It's not fair. Because Gale is on her team at work and she works with him every day, and Finnick's sitting right here. And Peeta…well, Peeta's _Peeta._

"Fine," she sighs, taking a long drink first, but not having much trouble coming up with her answer.

"I'd fuck Finnick, marry Peeta, and kill Gale."

"Well, that's good to know."

She hears his voice before she sees him, sliding easily into the seat next to her, pushing another beer in front of her with a pleased grin.

And Finnick literally claps at Peeta's presence, while Katniss just feels like dying of embarrassment.

"Don't feel too good about it, Johanna just killed you." she mumbles, wishing she could evaporate.

He sips his beer and wiggles his eyebrows, looking at Johanna playfully.

"Can you wait until after our wedding?"

Katniss glares at him before pleading with the table.

"Please let me re-answer. I want to kill him now too."

"Oh, calm down, Crazy," Johanna chimes in, waving Katniss off like this is a clear overreaction. "No one at this table expected a different answer from you. He's basically your office husband anyway."

Peeta catches Katniss's eye and surely the flush of her cheeks as he loosens the tie around his neck, chuckling the way he always chuckles when someone says something just like that.

But there's something unrecognizable in his eyes, and it's something Katniss hasn't seen before, something intriguing. And not necessarily unattractive.

"Why don't we move on? Someone give me a good one, I've been talking baked goods for entirely too long today."

Johanna raises her brow. "Well, you did miss the whole, Mags, Coin, Wiress conundrum, there, Bread Boy."

***

They end up sticking around longer than most of the group. Until the sun is down outside, no longer filtering in through the dark tinted windows of the bar, and Katniss has had enough beers to know she can't drive home to her tiny apartment ten minutes outside the city.

And when Peeta suggests grabbing dinner—to the group, which now consists of just herself, Finnick, and Johanna, Katniss agrees. And Finnick does too, even when Johanna decides to call it a night, so part of her is secretly relieved, because it still feels like just another work outing. Peeta suggests a Spanish place around the corner from his downtown apartment just a few blocks away, and Finnick makes it for exactly half the walk before his wife, Annie, calls, and all of sudden, he's going home instead, doing a practical about face to catch a cab.

As he grabs one within the minute, Katniss watches Finnick get in safely before turning back to Peeta, who's only watching her.

He shrugs.

"Just you and me, Everdeen."

And Katniss shrugs too, like it's no big deal.

But as they sit down at the trendy tapas place, bustling with people their age and older, a mix of larger groups and those coupled off on dates, something feels different. Even though they've shared hundreds of meals before, and even though they're not acting any differently than they do at work. Not really, at least. It's the same talking and laughing. Maybe it's the alcohol clouding her judgment and making her head spin.

Or maybe it's the glint in Peeta's very blue eyes when he looks at her, the corners of his lips upturned.

She's not exactly sure.

They're on their second glasses of wine and first round of tapas when Peeta sighs, leaning back in his seat.

"Well, this is a nice little date, huh?"

And he smirks, completely confusing her. He could be serious, he could be joking. She's not sure she's supposed to know.

"It's not a date unless there's kissing," she shakes her head in disagreement, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she can even think about what she's saying. And she's unable to stop them, even when she puts her hand to her mouth, because they're still out there, and as much as she'd like to, she can't take them back.

And for the second time tonight, she's mortified, especially when Peeta perks an eyebrow.

"Is that a backwards of way of telling me you'd make out with me?"

At that, she makes a face, still embarrassed but now annoyed enough to find her voice.

"This isn't a date…" she tells him, trying to make her words sound definitive. But even as she says them, she's not entirely convinced.

"I don't know," he says finally, sipping his drink and looking at her over the glass as he brings it to his mouth.

"Kinda feels like a date."

She narrows her eyes at him curiously.

"Do you _want_ it be a date?" She asks in a way that's not quite incredulously, because it's not entirely unbelievable that she and Peeta would end up on one, especially if you polled their coworkers, but she guesses that it's never really crossed her mind before.

Although maybe it should have. Because Peeta's handsome. And he makes her laugh. And her heart races when he smiles at her. And it races even faster when he looks at her like he is now.

It's slightly infuriating because he doesn't answer her question, turning it back on her instead.

"Do _you_ want it to be a date?"

_Yes. Maybe._ She doesn't know.

"I don't know."

Although by her own logic, the real question she seems to be asking herself is if she wants to kiss Peeta. And as she watches his eyes fall from hers at her response, the strong line of his jaw clench when he swallows, and his tongue dart across his lips quickly as he licks them before looking back up to her, she's pretty sure she has her answer.

"Well what do you say we take whatever tonight is to Johnny's down the street and find out?"

She likes that idea. Johnny's is a casual, intimate bar with lots of dark wood and comfy booths. One of her favorite spots for a drink or two. And she's pretty sure she's mentioned that before to Peeta.

Katniss smiles softly.

Because regardless of labels, she's not ready for the night to end.

It doesn't take long for Peeta to pick up the check.

***

The streets are quieter now, with less people and less traffic, just soft city noises and street lights and the occasional neon sign hanging in a window to light up the clouded night sky.

It's cooler now too, and Katniss shrugs on her jacket to fight the newly found bluster in the air.

Peeta waits the half step it makes her fall behind, watching her with a lazy, comfortable gaze that flushes her cheeks and shortens her breath.

And as they walk in the direction toward Johnny's, his hand brushes against hers, his touch taking her breath away again, surprised by the electricity she feels. But neither of them recoil from it, and instead she feels Peeta's fingers slip between hers, locking them softly but surely in his grip.

And she can see him smile out of the corner of her eye when she still doesn't pull away.

They make it to the corner of the block in silence, waiting on the cross walk before Peeta finally says something, squeezing her hand gently before he speaks.

"Ok, I have a confession."

But when she turns to look at him, instead of explaining with words, he finds her lips, and just like that, Peeta's kissing her.

Right there on the street corner. Leaning into her, slipping a hand around her waist, dipping his chin and brushing his lips against hers softly at first, and then with more confidence when she exhales softly against them, closing her eyes and relishing them as she kisses him back.

When he finally pulls back to look at her, his eyelids are heavy over his eyes, and his lips carry a small, satisfied smile to them.

"Date?"

Katniss exhales a breathy laugh.

And figures kissing him again is answer enough.

***

They skip Johnny's and instead end up at his place.

And they try to be civil. And polite. They really do. Peeta pours drinks. She sits on his couch patiently. He puts on music softly, earning cool points for having a real record player with vinyl records, which just so happens to have Van Morrison cued up, making Katniss think he's done this before but not caring because she loves Van Morrison.

But all too quickly, it turns from friendly conversation to him digging his fingers into her hair, her hands on his chest, where needy kisses become Peeta tugging with just enough force to tilt her head to the side, moving his mouth the nape of her neck.

And she's unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt while he's murmuring incoherent sounds against her skin.

And everything about him, and _this_ , feels just so incredibly good.

Good being two-fold, first in the sense that Peeta's undeniably sexy right now, with his half unbuttoned dress shirt, which is soon forgotten to focus on his belt buckle when his hand runs up the length of her thigh.

And second in the sense that this is better than any crappy date she's been on in the past couple of years. It's not cold or clinical, with unfamiliar hands and touches and empty words meant to make the other feel more comfortable.

It's the exact opposite actually.

Because she knows Peeta. She knows his voice and his ticks and his tells. And it doesn't feel empty when he tells her that she's gorgeous and that he's glad they're doing this.

It feels warm. It feels right.

And his smile is genuine when she tells him that she's glad they're doing this too.

And she likes the way his laugh feels against her neck when she teases him about Van Morrison and all the girls he must get because of it. And how he kisses her softly and tells her that actually, he's been saving that record just for her because she told him he was her favorite once.

But most of all, she likes the way his fingers stay intertwined with hers above her head on his pillow, his other hand brushing the hair on her forehead softly as his eyes make sure she's okay before lowering himself into her.

And after, when she curls back into him and his arms are draped around her waist, the only thing she doesn't like is how long it took them to get here.

***

**_Peeta_**

Peeta wakes before her, at an almost ungodly hour considering how late they stayed up. But he lets her sleep, secretly kissing the top of her head before sneaking out of bed to put on a pot of coffee and brainstorm breakfast. He's planning on showing off the cooking skills he knows he's talked up to her, still not quite believing he's been given the chance.

But she emerges from his bedroom sooner than he expects, and he's just heating up the frying pan for the omelets he's planning to make when he turns to greet her.

Except all he sees are legs. She has exquisite legs—they're absolutely the only thing he should notice. Tanned and toned and bare, the fabric of the dress shirt he wore last night hitting high on her thighs as she pads softly into the kitchen to join him.

And when Peeta finally manages to pull his gaze upward, he's greeted by tousled bed hair, nervous gray eyes and a shy smile that's also painfully sexy to him.

"Is it okay if I borrow this—I didn't have…"

"Yes," Peeta breathes, appreciatively, taking the concern right out of her eyes with his answer.

"Wear it. Keep it. I don't care. It's yours if you want it."

Katniss laughs softly, shrugging, then settling herself in at his breakfast bar.

"You're up early," she tells him as he retrieves her cup of coffee, with cream and two sugars, just the way he knows she likes it.

"I wanted to make you breakfast. Prove to you I wasn't lying when I said I could cook."

She sips her coffee and smiles.

"What are you making?"

"Omelets, hash browns, and fruit salad," he tells her nonchalantly, turning back to his stove and dumping the bowl of already scrambled eggs into his sufficiently heated pan.

And Peeta grins when he hears her sigh behind him.

"Best date ever."

He spins back around to look at her, and she's still smiling too.

"Can you just do me a favor and not dissect my _performance_ with me at work on Monday?"

She laughs, and he smirks at the blush that creeps into her cheeks, which he knows she must hate and fights with a playful shrug.

"Okay, but you might like what I have to say."

He raises an encouraging eyebrow.

But she just laughs again and shakes her head.

"That kind of sounds like I've moved back off your kill list, then," he points out.

And she narrows her eyes, considering him.

"Maybe," she agrees noncommittally.

"So am I back in _F_ or _M_ territory then?"

She pauses again, and he lets her eyes take him in as she bites her bottom lip before she answers.

"I think that depends on how good this breakfast of yours is."

Peeta laughs.

"No pressure or anything," she adds, grinning.

"Oh, don't worry. There isn't any. I might as well start planning the wedding again, actually."

Katniss snorts.

"Why don't we stick with the _F_ -ing for now and see how that goes first?"

And she doesn't have to ask twice.

Because he turns the stove top off, quickly abandoning the eggs for Katniss and her legs and his shirt, not hesitating to pull her off her stool and into his arms. And secretly thanking God for that stupid bar game they all insist on playing.

"That works for me too," he murmurs against her lips before kissing her.

Because it absolutely does. _For now._ Although he just might have every intention of eventually taking her up on that _M_ she promised him.

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr, I'm @ c-r-roberts. Come say hi.


End file.
